[b]"Aye, the collectors of the coin have heavy hands indeed."[/b] Sigur muttered in mutual agreement as he raised his cup to his mouth. The garrison at Bosfryd seemed to be nothing more than a collection of scoundrels meant to suppress the populace. Even so give a scoundrel the blessing of a king, and they act like lords themselves. It sickened Sigur, men of the watch were supposed to be defenders of the peace, keepers of the land, a fact that Barkstead's men understand well, and a concept that was as alien to Harold's thugs as washing themselves.

Sigur was slightly shocked of how much Masef had aged since he had last seen the boy sitting across from him. When Sigur had left Brand's care the boy was just eight winters young, a young pup by most standards. A curious young child that always got into trouble, and always seemed to find a way to have his punishments diverted to his older siblings. For a young one he was sly as a fox. Though at times Sigur wanted to crush the boy, he had warmed up to him eventually. He wondered if he had still kept up with his longbow training after Sigur had left. Though it had seemed that the young child he once knew had certainly matured into a strapping young lad. In a way this made the aging half-orc feel equal parts nostalgic and very old himself. How he longed for those simpler years back before everything seemed to become distorted, and confused in his heart. The two talked very little as they sat at the table both nursing their own drinks, but the little words they did have carried sparks and flecks of information on them.

Quinn always did have the flare for the theatrical when they were younger and his entrance showed that this side of him had not dampened with age. When the "honest merchant" came to their table offering his brandy, something deep inside of the half-orc chuckled even as he held a straight face. Sigur decided to play along with the show and with a quick exchange of coins for a glass of fine brandy, the hunter offered a chair to the merchant, and it all seemed normal. In a very quick span three brothers had become united together under one roof once again. It felt good to Sigur, it felt right.

[i][b]"But yes, the Pilgrim Road was quite thirsty, and I fear the road to come will be even more thirsty."[/b][/i]

[b]"Indeed. The air was unnaturally calm this morning of my hunt. A storm must be coming."[/b] The half-orc added in agreement to his younger brother, though it may of seemed like just talk of the weather to any of those not listening carefully. Moments later the "guardsmen" entered the building. Sigur kept casual as they barked their demands, and he seemed to just continue to enjoy his drink. In reality he was scoping out the room they were in as it evolved into a battlefield in his mind. He watched the faces of the worried girls and other patrons, making notes of their positions just in case they did not have the good sense to run. He finished his analysis just as the last drop left his cup, and he made little show of standing up and placing the cup upon the table.

[b]"Excuse me gentlemen, I must go pay my tab and be off. I would not want to anger our guests"[/b] Without any other words he left his brothers at the table and walked back over to the bar. He placed himself strategically between the guards and the serving girl with the nervous look in her eyes. He shuffled around in his pocket for coins, as he did his eyes flickered up to the girl's and a moment of recognition was passed. He was not going to let the beasts have their way. His other hand slowly descend towards the hilt of his blade and he waited. It would be just like old times it seemed.